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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301721">would you like the exit policy?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousOverkill/pseuds/perniciousOverkill'>perniciousOverkill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>his name is michael [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Rough Sex, Slapping, chest injury, degradation (its lighter this time), dubcon, everybody's upset, maybe dr david is caring idk, probably not tho, trying to escape da mental institute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:28:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousOverkill/pseuds/perniciousOverkill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>michael tries to escape, against his better interests.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Shelley/Dr. David, Michael | The Distortion/Dr. David</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>his name is michael [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>would you like the exit policy?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi !! once again i have to explicitly state that i ALSO have medical trauma from being fat :)) whatever</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room is quiet once the doctor leaves; cold seeps back in in waves. It takes him a second to gather himself off the floor, covering himself back up and sitting on the side of the bed. Although memories are slowly coming back to him, he can’t remember the last time he had been… touched. But now he feels empty and used. He wants to be held.</p><p>Feeling the chill finally set itself in entirely, he collapses back into the bed. He can’t cry anymore; he doesn’t have it in him. There is only something empty, and somehow just as cold as the room he is now trapped in. He feels like he’s been scooped out and hollowed. And the only thing he can remember is the way the doctor’s smile makes him feel. </p><p>Michael has only ever known betrayal. There was a time when he trusted somebody, and she used that trust as a device, as a way to make him a pawn in some bigger game. Somehow there is comfort in knowing somebody’s only intent is to hurt you from the beginning. Maybe, in some way, he prefers this to any kind of false nicety. </p><p>The mattress below is stiff and takes no accommodation to the curve of his back. An ache is already making itself comfortable in his lower spine. Can’t catch a break in a place like this, I guess.</p><p>Doctor David’s last words ring through his head… how the hell is he supposed to get back into the restraints. A part of him doesn’t care. Couldn’t care less about whatever punishment he’ll take. But another part of him worries that ‘punishment’ is just abandonment, and he can’t afford that. God forbid he actually goes crazy.</p><p>There has to be a way to leave. You can’t just keep people against their will, Michael knows that at the least. People have rights. Even if the house doesn’t want him to leave, he’ll find a way on his own. It might just take some time…</p><p>His eyes accidentally graze over a small crack in the corner where the walls meet, a crack running perfectly vertically between them. That’s strange…</p><p>He gets up again, wandering over to the corner and brushing his finger over it. There’s a distinct gap between the two, and further inspection betrays a small swing in the wall. It’s a door. It takes some effort to make the initial dent in opening it; the space between it is small, barely half an inch. He can only use his nails to slowly pry it, bit by bit, tugging and threatening to tear his nails off in the process. Eventually, he’s able to pry his fingers in and lug the heavy cement open, coming face to face with a window. Its wooden frame has been hastily nailed into the windowsill; with his nails still attached, he can probably tug these out if he tries hard enough. </p><p>He takes one last look at the door into his room to double check nobody is doubling back for him. Of course, they aren’t. With the all clear, he begins to routinely remove nails from the wood, fingertips burning as he does so. They shimmy out slowly, but surely, and there’s only four or five keeping it secured. The only thing that slows him down is the brief panic attack he endures when he hears footsteps outside the door, but it’s only ever passing. Nobody is looking for him. It isn’t long before he’s pried the last nail out, tossing it behind with a quiet clatter.</p><p>Compared to how hard he has worked to get to this point, the window opens easily. It’s his first breath of fresh air, and it smells heavenly… but it’s colder than it is inside. After the initial rush, doubt begins to creep in. What if it’s too cold. What if it’s safer inside. Oh god.</p><p>He can’t decide anymore; it looks like a steep fall too. Survivable, but maybe not the most pleasant. His hands are shaking now, and he has to grip the sill to try and keep himself upright. He can’t even tell if these thoughts are his own or if it’s simply an effect of the environment that he’s in. Somehow, he can’t take the risk. If this is his only chance to leave…</p><p>So, he clambers out of the window, struggling to pull himself up, and then struggling even more as he stares down the fall. The room is on the second floor, so it’s not too bad, but it’s only shrivelled, dead grass below him to soften the blow. The wind is pushing him back into the room… maybe he should stay.</p><p>At this thought, Michael throws himself out of the window, flailing as he falls. He’s not in the air for very long, crashing into the ground with a disheartening thud. All he can stand to do is lie still, wheezing for air with what feels like deflated lungs. Everything in his body is sharp. Breathing is all he can do to not start crying or look up and see that in front of him is only metal fencing all the way up. He cannot leave. Maybe he can cry then…</p><p>Somehow, he doesn’t. He lies there, and with the dying air supply coming from his chest (which seems to have taken most of the impact), his vision slowly goes white and he passes out.</p><p> </p><p>When he wakes up, he’s shirtless, wrapped in thick white bandages. The only accessory is the leather strap that goes straight across his chest again. There are no tears this time; he simply sighs in defeat, waiting for the doctor in the corner of the room to begin his taunting remarks. Every breath takes a few extra ounces of effort now.</p><p>“I recall telling you to try, at the very least, to get yourself back into your bed before we came back.” Doctor David saunters over to the chair he sat in before. “It’s telling that you somehow interpreted this to mean trying some pathetic attempt of escape.”</p><p>Michael looks back to the corner; there is no gap anymore.</p><p>“Oh, don’t bother with that- we’ve moved you to a room less tempting to you. Can’t sit still, can you?”</p><p>He doesn’t speak to his doctor, just looks at the ceiling and waits for him to leave.</p><p>The doctor tsks. “I’m honestly disappointed. I thought I made a compelling point for you to stay put. Maybe I need to do something that resonates a bit more with you. We’ve barely made any progress in your treatment; we can’t afford you thinking that you’re allowed to just up and leave.”</p><p>…</p><p>“The silent treatment, is it? Alright then. I don’t need you to talk for this.” </p><p>The doctor gets up and shakes himself out of his coat, which falls onto the seat of the chair. Michael begins to shake as his restraints are once again unbuckled, and this time he stays lying once he’s freed. And as angry as he is at the doctor and this institute, he feels himself preen when a hand is placed on one of his knees. He tells himself again; this is familiar. This is predictable. And because of that, this is comfortable.</p><p>Doctor David turns Michael over onto his stomach, tugging down the waist of his sweatpants yet again. Michael can’t afford to start panting; the growing bruise on his chest is stopping him from doing so. David keeps one hand on the back of Michael’s neck, pressing the side of his face into the mattress as he unbuckles his own trousers, struggling out of them. Michael can tell he’s angry. It makes him feel wanted.</p><p>Without any warning or preparation, Doctor David is inside of Michael, and Michael reaches back to try and feel the man behind him. There’s an unexpected moment of warmth that comes over him when the doctor takes Michael’s hand in his and holds it next to Michael’s shoulder, still holding him secure into the mattress. </p><p>Michael whimpers, and the doctor develops a steady rhythm, tightening his grip on Michael’s hand and neck whenever he hits the deepest point. Michael is warm again, muffling his wanton moans into the pillow. His noises only receive another hand on the back of his head, pushing him into the pillow harder. Nobody is holding his hand anymore.</p><p>“You don’t get to enjoy this, slut.” </p><p>The tears begin to make their way back up to the surface as Michael feels himself twitch. He tries his best to reach back to stroke himself off, but his head is yanked backwards by the hair in response. Michael yelps in response, trying his best to strain to accommodate the pain.</p><p>Doctor David leans down over him, bringing Michael’s ear up to his mouth. “I’m the only who gets you off in here, understand?”</p><p>He picks up his pace and Michael can’t place what is pain and what is pleasure anymore. He croaks out; “Yes.”</p><p>The doctor’s hand grips harder into Michael’s hair, sending ripples of sharp pain through Michael’s skull. “Yes- what?”</p><p>“Yes Doctor!” Michael shouts, desperate to get the hands off of his hair.</p><p>The doctor moves his hands back down to Michael’s neck; when he fucks Michael it’s only for himself. His movements are rough and rapid, the opposite of mechanical. The doctor is going to cum and it’s making him angry. Michael wants to as well. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to it, but he knows he needs the further assistance to get anything out of it; however, he doesn’t know if he will ever get it. </p><p>Michael knows when the doctor cums, he can feel a new kind of warmth inside of him, one that is sticky and messy. Michael cries, knowing that he isn’t close enough to cum from this. It only furthers his crying when Doctor David pulls out of him, leaving him feeling hollow again. He crumples on the bed, sniffling.</p><p>With careful eyes that glow a maniacal yellow, the doctor saunters over, taking Michael’s chin in his thumb and pointer finger. He categorically analyzes his patient’s face, using his free hand to wipe away the tears on his cheeks. “You look so pretty like this… why would you ever want to leave? Honestly, I think this might be your purpose in life. Why else would you look so… good?”</p><p>Michael shakes his head. “Please, doctor- I want to leave.”</p><p>Something strikes him across the face. He looks back at the doctor and realizes that he’s just been slapped, David shaking his hand off. His lips are tight with anger. Michael’s lips are trembling.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>The doctor can’t finish his sentence. He’s red with rage now, but there’s something behind his eyes that’s… a different feeling. Michael recognizes it. It’s betrayal. He’s betrayed the doctor.</p><p>Doctor David pulls him off of the bed, dragging him through the room and throwing him into the chair. Michael watches as the doctor hides his face from him, nudging Michael’s legs open and taking him in his mouth. </p><p>Michael grips the sides of the chair trying to keep himself steady; the doctor doesn’t look at him as he works up and down Michael’s cock. He can feel himself pulsing under the doctor’s work, and he can’t help but letting out a long string of breathy moans. </p><p>“Doctor, please…” He can barely speak, trying his best not to buck his hips up towards the doctor. Instead, he places his hand on the doctor’s hand which is holding onto Michael’s knee with force. </p><p>In return, the doctor works a little bit harder and Michael chokes on his own breath. He switches between looking at the wall in front of him and at the doctor, who is still refusing to make any kind of eye contact with him (and Michael still doesn’t know why).</p><p>Michael’s whole-body shakes as he cums, gripping the doctor’s hands and pressing his toes into the floor beneath him. He wants the doctor to look at him, to affirm him, but there is something distant coming from him right now, even as he pulls himself up to meet Michael’s eyeline.</p><p>He reaches around the back of Michael’s head and pulls their lips together. Once they’re kissing, Michael swooning underneath the touch, the doctor passes Michael’s cum into his mouth. Michael doesn’t care; this is all he’s wanted. The kiss is only fleeting though- Doctor David pulls away, only a small string of cum connecting their lips. Michael swallows as the doctor wipes it away. </p><p>Only from here can Michael see that the doctor’s eyes are red… from-</p><p>No, not crying. That can’t be.</p><p>The doctor gets up and leaves without another word, buttoning his pants back up and leaving his coat behind. </p><p>Michael stares at the door for a moment, feeling the warm impressions of where the doctor held him. The cold seems to stay away for longer this time, so Michael climbs into bed, pulling the doctor’s coat around him and letting himself fall asleep.</p>
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